


Color Study

by fortyfive_rpm (2davidbeckham3)



Category: The Rolling Stones
Genre: Drabble Sequence, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:02:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25926322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2davidbeckham3/pseuds/fortyfive_rpm
Summary: Mick and Keith in the studio. (And the aftermath.)
Relationships: Mick Jagger/Keith Richards
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Color Study

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of trying to combat writer's block by giving myself prompts.
> 
> Ten drabbles of a hundred words. Each mentions a shade (or close to it) of a color of the rainbow (and some additional colors), just for an extra challenge! Together, they make a coherent story. 
> 
> I was inspired by Angie, but I didn't really have a specific time period in mind, so feel free to imagine to your heart's content!

  
  


_Red_

The crimson haze has faded to the edges of Keith's vision before Mick speaks again. 

"I still think my idea for the bridge is better." 

Keith closes his eyes against Mick's petulant tone, "Fuck off, Mick," he purses his lips, exhaling loudly through his nose. "D'you really wanna start this, again?" Keith tightens his grip around the neck of his guitar, strings strings grating against his fingertips. 

Mick slams his hand against the piano, the loud, causing Keith's eyes to snap open at the sound of the discordant chord echoing throughout the empty studio. "Let's fucking try it, at least." 

  
  


_Orange_

Keith drops his gaze to the glass he placed next to his seat at the beginning of the session, narrowing his eyes at the sliver of dark amber liquid left at the bottom. "Let's come back to it, yeah?" He asks, disguising his _'no'_ as compromise. 

Mick barks out a bitter laugh, recognizing Keith's true intentions. "Sure, just don't come crying to me when you're not on the final cut." 

"I meant what I said." Keith snaps back, rising to the bait. He glares at Mick, "If I said 'we'll come back to it,' then we'll come back to it." 

  
  


_Yellow_

Mick's sarcastic smirk twists into a frown, still braced for a fight. "Fine." He concedes after a pause, turning back to the piano with a shrug. "Let's take it from the top." 

"Fine," Keith parrots, arching a brow at the sharp glance Mick throws over his shoulder. 

The slow tempo of the song is a jarring contrast to their heated exchange. For the first few chords, Keith's uncomfortably out of place, still keyed up from their previous argument, while the studio's awash in warm, faded marigold tones befitting the ambiance of the ballad in progress. 

Then, Mick starts to sing. 

  
  


_Green_

The lingering tense emotions thrum throughout Keith's body, coursing down his veins. His fingers move out of their own accord, following Mick's swelling voice. His riff comes out twisted, a shadow of what it was before, echoing Mick's new lyrics, emphasizing longing and heartbreak in the song. The song stretches, painfully pulling heartstrings like rubber bands until it ends on a haunting note. 

Keith has to take a moment to catch his breath after the song ends, a phantom ache weighing heavily on his chest. 

Mick's in a similar position, visibly panting, flashy button-down sweated through to a muted juniper. 

  
  


_Blue_

Mick turns his focus back onto Keith for the first time since they started playing. "That was good, wasn't it?" His bright cerulean gaze is better than any crowd's applause of approval. 

"What d'you think?" Keith counters, not bothering to tamp down his satisfied grin. 

Mick stands up, raising his arms over his head in a languid stretch. "Maybe we should fight more often." 

Keith grunts, eyeing Mick's relaxed form warily. "I don't think the rest of the band would agree." 

Mick hums in agreement, sauntering over to Keith. "Let's hope we had enough tape to record all of that." 

  
  


_Indigo_

Keith hides his discomfort by taking off his guitar, carefully placing it onto its stand before speaking. "They'll have to cut through a lot of yelling." 

Mick chuckles, the hard edge to his laughter evidence that his comments are more accusatory than he's making them appear. "It wouldn't be the worst thing we've been recorded doing." He punctuates his statement by wrapping his finger around Keith's belt loop. 

"That's true," Keith acquiesces, looking down at Mick's hand. He feels a smile tug at his lips at the sight of Mick's ink-stained fingertips, navy wounds inflicted by a successful recording session. 

  
  


_Violet_

"I wouldn't want an encore," Keith adds before Mick could get any more ideas.

Mick rolls his eyes, dropping his hand. "I wasn't planning on it."

"Let's go back to the hotel." Keith might be playing his luck, but Mick made the first move, after all.

Mick arches a brow, lips curling into a smug smirk. "Always so direct." He muses like he wasn't trying to get into Keith's pants moments ago. 

"You're locking up," Keith retorts, flashing an exaggerated grin at Mick's frown. 

When they step outside, the sun's barely below the horizon, sky filled with streaks of lavender. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Black_

Keith’s hotel room’s fallen into shadow, broken only by the moonlight creeping between his blinds. It’s all the light he needs, already familiar with the body beneath him. He pulls his mouth from Mick’s wrist to thumb at the sensitive spot. “Still doin’ alright, Mick?”

Even in the inky darkness, Keith can make out Mick’s wide-eyed gaze, pupils, sparkling obsidian, blown with lust.

“Kiss me.” Mick’s voice sounds wrecked. He doesn’t look too much better, lips bruised and bitten, marked by Keith’s teeth as well as his own.

It’s such a simple request that Keith can’t help but to comply.

  
  


_Gray_

Keith opens his eyes sometime in the early morning, room now under a silver cast as night fades into day. It’s unnerving, not to be able to see the sunrise in its full glory like he usually does. His sleep-addled brain is slow to put the pieces together; it’s not until he feels a body shift beside him and an arm curl around his waist that Keith remembers what broke his routine.

Keith turns to look at Mick’s sleeping form, only to be drawn to the dark bruises trailing down Mick’s neck. 

It’s not a bad way to wake up. 

  
  


_White_

Keith’s no stranger to addiction. He knows that some things are harder to give up than others. But, there are also some things he doesn’t plan on ever giving up. Music is one of those things. Seeing Mick’s alabaster skin against ivory bed sheets is another.

“Didn’ ‘nyone tell you starin’ is rude?” Mick mumbles, words muffled by his pillow.

Keith hadn’t even noticed that Mick was awake. He looks up from Mick’s chest to see that he hasn’t even opened his eyes. “Can’t I admire the view?” He grins at the sight of Mick’s bleary, one-eyed glare. 

“Fuck off.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Colors:  
> Red - Crimson  
> Orange - Dark amber  
> Yellow - Marigold  
> Green- Juniper  
> Blue - Cerulean  
> Indigo - Navy  
> Violet - Lavender  
> Black - Obsidian  
> Gray - Silver  
> White - Alabaster, Ivory  
> Thank you for reading! (: Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> ([ hit me up on tumblr! ](https://www.joe--perry.tumblr.com/))


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